


A Pyrrhic Victory

by notfelix



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Grief/Mourning, I've been sad lately and this Thursday did not help, Multi, Polyamory, also ao3's tag character limit wouldn't let me put Percy's full name in the ship tag, because they hate fun, episode 68
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:29:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8123548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notfelix/pseuds/notfelix
Summary: SPOILERS THROUGH EPISODE 68. MAJOR SPOILERS.
"None of them are going to sleep tonight— none of them want to— but they need their spells back (Keyleth needs her spells back), so they all pretend to try."





	

There’s nothing they can do, so they go to bed.

All of them aching and bloodied, crushed glass digging into every exposed patch of skin, Vox Machina crawls its pathetic way into Scanlan’s mansion (how he’s even able to cast it at this point, they don’t question, because their only other option is the beach and more glass, so they shut up and take the only comfort they’re offered). Grog carries Percy inside; they lay him down in one of the smaller bedrooms, swaddled in blankets; Keyleth can’t bring herself to look.

So now they’re holed up in the master suite, with its mammoth bed big enough for eight, approximating their usual configuration: Grog on the far left, askew, one bandaged leg dangling off the edge of the mattress; Vax with his head on Grog’s chest and Keyleth tucked into the crook of his neck so Vax can stroke her hair; Scanlan sprawled out on his back, filling just about the same amount of space Tiberius used to curled up on his side in this position back home at the keep (an empty chasm they’ve long since adjusted to compensate for, but on days like today— especially today— they still feel the weight of his loss); a gap where Pike would be, where Pike _should_ be, where they need her to be, because without her they aren’t whole, can’t be whole, and each day they seem to splinter more and more; then Vex balled up in fetal position, where all she can see is the vast expanse of silk sheets between her and Scanlan, and she feels so far away; and then there’s the cold air at Vex’s back where Percy’s breath doesn’t tickle the nape of her neck, where Percy’s arm isn’t flung lazily around her waist, where Percy doesn’t snore quietly under his breath (and vehemently deny it in the morning, because snoring is undignified and he was raised better than that).

It’s been probably an hour since any of them have spoken, but it feels like a year; all is profoundly, wretchedly quiet, except the soft hiccup of Keyleth’s choked sobs.

The room is warm and the bed is soft but Vex is still out there on that beach, glass digging into her heels. She watches in her mind over and over the instant of Ripley’s evisceration, how she can’t even enjoy the most well-deserved retribution she has ever been a part of achieving.

None of them are going to sleep tonight— none of them want to— but they need their spells back (Keyleth needs her spells back), so they all pretend to try, and lie very still in near-silence until Vax sits up just a little bit and croaks out, _Stubby_.

Vex blinks herself back to the present. In her reverie she seems to have missed the moment Scanlan climbed over the other two half-elves to take up residence in the center of Grog’s chest.

“Come on.”

She forces out a whisper, “This is my spot,” her mouth dry and her throat sore.

“Vex,” Keyleth sniffles. “Please.” She pats the now-vacant spot of mattress beside her.

It takes more strength than it should, but Vex eventually crawls her way to Keyleth’s side. Her muscles give up the second she arrives; she’s falling apart at the seams. But Keyleth smiles (it’s miniscule and tainted, sure, but it’s there), flanked by her two tempestuous twins, and isn’t it amazing somebody’s found a reason to smile tonight?

Keyleth sniffles again. Vex reaches up to wipe a tear from Keyleth’s cheek, and while her hand is up there Keyleth grabs it so she can press a kiss to her knuckles— and now it’s Vex’s turn to smile, softly, instinctually; she means it but it’s involuntary. The well of despair taking root in her chest doesn’t grow any shallower, but it does stir. From here Vex twists to reach for Scanlan’s hand. He laces their fingers together and squeezes her palm. She lets go, because this position just isn’t sustainable, but they both know she’d have stayed there if she could.

Vax and Keyleth and Vex, in that order, sigh and settle into some jigsaw configuration, wherein Vex can hear Keyleth’s heartbeat and Keyleth can hear Vax’s heartbeat and Vax can hear Grog’s heartbeat and they can all hear Scanlan mutter something that lowers the room into darkness, and just before exhaustion takes over (somehow grief never gets any less taxing) Vex can’t help but think that five just isn’t enough.

**Author's Note:**

> to cap off a rough week, G&S gave me the gift of episode 68. I wrote this because I couldn't sleep. sorry
> 
> (also I know "instinctually" isn't actually a word, it's "instinctively," but you can thank Mercer for its appearance here)


End file.
